


Picking Up the Pieces

by Callaeidae3



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Orchestra, Angst, Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, orchestra AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-29 09:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17200775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callaeidae3/pseuds/Callaeidae3
Summary: “You need to put more feeling into your playing, Kogane. Just being able to play every note without messing up isn’t going to get you very far.”Even as a piano prodigy, Keith struggles to be good enough. The stress of maintaining his grades in order to keep his scholarship is beginning to eat away at him, not to mention some memories that never fail to haunt him. When rehearsals for the upcoming student orchestra get underway, that stress only doubles and Keith begins to find it's more than he can handle by himself.But with the possibility of finding a friend in student composer/conductor and new neighbour Shiro, Keith finds himself not so alone as he thought he'd always be.





	1. Chapter 1

The chaos inside of his head won’t let up. Keith pushes himself to run faster. His legs protest, his chest hurts, but he doesn’t relent.

_“You need to put more feeling into your playing, Kogane. Just being able to play every note without messing up isn’t going to get you very far.”_

Keith tears across the street without looking, reckless, more reckless than usual. The student orchestra are starting rehearsals tomorrow so he really can’t afford to be putting himself at risk, not when it’s a piano concerto and he’s the soloist, but somehow he just doesn’t care.

_“The music industry is getting more competitive each year. You need to stand out if you want to – ”_

Blood roars in his ears. Iverson’s words are drowned out, finally, but as soon as he gets to the top of this hill they’ll be back.

He doesn’t understand. While he gets that this uni is strict because of the reputation it seeks to uphold, Keith can’t understand what more he has to do to give the tutors what they want. He’s been doing everything right.

He’s been practising hard every day after school. He’s  _been_ putting feeling into what he plays. If he’s to play cantabile, he plays the piece cantabile. If it’s less of a sing-song piece he plays it accordingly so, whatever the key, whatever the tempo, whatever the arrangement.

Somehow that’s still not good enough. Somehow  _he’s_ never good enough.

The only thing holding him back from screaming his frustration is that it’s eleven at night.

Maybe if he wasn’t Keith Kogane, orphan turned piano prodigy, people wouldn’t be so harsh on him. It shouldn’t come as a surprise; the world’s always been harsh. But would it hurt for something good to come his way for once? A life where his future doesn’t depend on him getting As, for instance? A day where he isn’t lectured in some manner or form for something he didn’t get quite right? Perhaps a friend?

_As if anyone would want to be my friend._

There’s almost nobody out on the streets now. It’s late and the middle of the week, so again, no surprises. According to his watch, it’s 11.47pm when he’s coming up the last hill to the apartment block. Keith slows to a jog as he gets closer, lets his heart rate begin to slow down too.

Outside of his head, it’s quiet. He knows the moment he goes back inside the chaos of his thoughts will resume in all its strength so he lingers. The odd insect zips past his face as he warms down. A car passes by, one of it’s headlights flickering. Keith stretches.

With a sigh, he swings his arms and looks up at the apartment stairs.  _Shower time, then._

He feels better after the run but his head’s still a mess. He’s so consumed by it, by the weariness in his legs and his mind and in his shoulders that he doesn’t notice the person standing right outside his apartment door.

“Hi!”

Keith flinches back, breath catching in his throat. He blinks at the guy standing in front of him, eyebrow raised. “Wh-who are you?”

The guy tilts his head to the side. “Uh…I was just going to ask you if you could point me in the direction of my mate’s place. He said he moved into 201 but, uh…” The guy glances between Keith and the door he’s standing in front of. “I’m guessing this is where you live?”

Keith fishes the keycard out of his pocket, hands shaking. “Yeah. You must have the wrong room.”

“Ahhh, yeah. Sorry about that. I’m Matt, by the way. Shiro’s friend.”

 _Who’s Shiro?_ “Hi…”

The silence is awkward. Keith just wants to get inside of his house, shake the adrenaline out of his limbs, go have a hot shower but Matt’s still standing in front of the door and Keith’s nerves are too on edge to ask him to move. A screech of tires on the gravel of the parking lot sends a shiver up Keith’s spine. He grits his teeth. He really needs to get inside.

“I don’t know where your friend lives,” Keith says tightly. “Maybe you should give him a call.”

Matt nods, distracted. He’s listening, Keith realises, to the car door slamming, the beep that accompanies the flash of lights of the car locking and the crunching of footsteps heading over to the stairs.

“Or…you could just wait for him.”

Since Matt’s face lights up in relief, Keith guessing this tall guy with the white fringe of hair getting in his eyes is ‘Shiro’. Shiro’s shoulders sag as he reaches the second floor. He lets out an exasperated sigh.

“I got lost,” he breathes. “Drove straight past the place, would you believe me?”

Matt laughs. “Typical!” His voice echoes off the walls and he hastily covers his mouth with his hands, wincing. “Oops.”

Keith shifts on his feet. “Can I…get into my house now, please?”

He braces himself for the reprimand, the lecture.  _Just be patient_ , they’ll say.  _Don’t be so rude._ But it seems like neither Shiro nor Matt are like his last foster mother. Instead Matt dances out of the way with a flurry of apologies and Shiro just stands and stares.

“You’re…a-are you…?” Shiro stammers.

Keith swipes his card and punches his passcode into the keypad. He inwardly curses himself. So much for security; these two guys just saw him put in his passcode right in front of them.

“..are you  _Keith_?”

The door chimes open. Keith grasps the door handle in his hand, heart beating fast. He hopes his anxiety isn’t obvious. He really doesn’t like talking to people.

“Wait, Keith as in Keith Kogane?” Matt asks. “The pianist? The piano prodigy?”

 _Why does everyone have to call me that?_ “Yeah,” Keith murmurs. “That would be my name.”

Shiro moves around so that he’s standing in Keith’s periphery by Matt. “I just moved in next door. Room 202. I, uh, I’m Shiro. Takashi Shirogane.”

He sticks out his hand as a greeting shake but all Keith sees is a hand coming down to hit him. He inhales sharply, slamming into his apartment door before he can stop himself.  _Oh man._ Keith stumbles inside and slams the door shut behind him.

_Oh man._

Takashi Shirogane is the conductor of the student orchestra. Keith’s screwed. Shiro composed the pieces he’ll be playing. There’s no way he’ll want an anxiety-ridden pianist playing them. They’re such well-crafted scores. Keith will only ruin it for the both of them.

No matter how hard he tries to keep his cool, things like this keep happening. He’d thought it had gotten better, but something about blocked exits always sets him off. It’s why he always is the first to leave and tries to be the last to get to places. Tonight, it could’ve been as simple as asking that Matt guy to move out of the way. That’s all Keith had to do, and yet…

He tears his hair free of the hair tie and slaps it down on the bench along with his key card.  _I’m such a mess._

Keith feels better with a shower, but only marginally. His thoughts still plague him. His anxiety never leaves. He takes a deep breath, lets it out.

 _Just keep going,_  he tells himself.  _Keep going and you’ll be fine._

It’s saved him before. It’ll save him again.

 

Three and a half hours of sleep is all he gets before his alarm goes off. Keith knocks his phone onto the floor and falls after it in his attempt to swipe the alarm off. The impact jars his elbow and he winces.

Friday today. He’s not feeling so good, a little light headed and weak, but he goes through the motions of getting ready all the same. When he can’t find a decent shirt he grabs the one he wore to class yesterday. It doesn’t smell so it’s fine. Pants, socks, the same red jacket he always wears. But when it comes to finding something for breakfast, he groans.

There’s no food in the cupboard. He ran out yesterday and forgot to stop in at the supermarket on his way home, his head had been that full of Iverson’s condescending voice. Keith doesn’t have to time to go before class, so he’ll have to grab something from the student café at break time. Maybe buy a coffee from the vending machine outside the apartment block to keep him going until then, seeing as he’s somehow run out of coffee too.

Keith checks he’s got everything he needs for the day, slips on his shoes and leaves with a furrow in his brow. It’s that time of year again, isn’t it? That’s why he’s been so on edge lately. It doesn’t get overly cold in this city so sometimes it’s hard to notice the winter coming, especially when he’s indoors studying and practising most of his time.

But it is mid-year and mid-year is when the high school piano competitions are held. It’s been three years since Keith won that competition and… and….

“Keith!”

His heart skips a beat. Keith recognises the voice but it gives him a fright nonetheless. He turns around, a metre from the vending machine, and sure enough it’s Takashi Shirogane.

Shiro smiles, walking out across the parking lot. “Morning.”

Trying to straighten out his expression, Keith nods. “Hi…”

“Did you want a lift to uni?”

The vending machine at his back beckons. “Nah, it’s alright, thanks. I’d rather walk.” He winces at how rude he sounds and clears his throat. “I like walking,” he says. “Fresh air. It’s good.”

“Ah right. All goods. Let me know if you ever need ride, though. I like to be there early so I can go over my notes, remember what we went over in class the day before, so if you don’t mind that I’d be happy to take you anytime.”

Keith finds his jacket pockets and digs his hands into them, awkward.

Shiro cringes. “Sorry… we don’t even know each other yet and I’m…sorry to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine. Thanks, though. Thanks for the offer.”

“It’s all goods.”

Keith taps his foot on the concrete and looks around. “Okay, well. I’m gonna head off now. Don’t wanna be late.”

“Yeah. See you later at rehearsal.”

“Yep.”

It’s too awkward and makes him anxious to get coffee here with Shiro staring at him, so Keith leaves it behind and just hopes the one all the way down the road has some in it. Shiro drives past before Keith’s even walked a couple of minutes. As his car vanishes around a bend Keith’s reminded of his lightheadness. By the time he’s walked the twenty five minutes to the end of the road, he’s regretting not considering taking Shiro up on his offer. He only gets dizzier as he gets closer to the uni.

The vending machine doesn’t have any coffee. Keith heaves a sigh.

He ends up buying coffee from the student café. It costs more than Keith would like to spend, but he needs it. It’s good. He finds his seat in his morning class of music theory and sits there in the corner of the room sipping it while the tutor takes her time finding the right PowerPoint.

His thoughts drift to Shiro.  _What does he want?_  is the first thing that comes to mind, but it’s more a case of wondering why a guy he only knows the name of would be so kind to him, to Keith – the loner, the pianist who wants nothing to do with anyone else.

Keith’s been told his scowl wards people away, prevents them from getting near. Keith’s fine with that. Everyone he has classes with – the other students, the tutors – they all think he simply hates people when in fact he’s afraid of them. It’s better to stay away than trusting someone only to get hurt again. It’s better to push people away than have someone come into his life only to leave again.

Shiro seems like a genuinely nice guy, but sooner or later he’ll realise Keith isn’t someone who’s fun to be around. Becoming friends might seem like a good idea now but it won’t be long before Shiro comes to terms with the fact that perhaps it’s not. Keith has nothing to offer in a friendship except for his burdensome, awkward self.

At least, that’s what he’s come to believe after all these years.

There’s a churning in his gut, a hope, telling him that it could be different this time. That he could find a friend in Shiro, that maybe for once he’ll meet someone who doesn’t leave –

Keith narrows his eyes at the projector screen and forces himself to focus on the lesson. Like that’s ever going to happen.

Lunchtime rolls around quick and with it, the first rehearsal. Friday afternoons are scheduled as self-study and time slots to practise. Keith would much rather head over to the practise rooms, but he needs the experience of playing with others. Like Iverson keeps saying, unless he puts himself out there and participates in events, his options will be limited.

He can’t afford to waste this scholarship. He fought so hard for it.

Swaying on his feet a little, Keith walks over to the student café, buys a sandwich and eats it on the way to the Rehearsal Hall 1. There’s basically an hour until he needs to be there but he’s got nothing else to do. But then he remembers the number of people who will be heading over there towards the end of lunch break and decides to go for a walk around campus instead.

It’s sunny out. The sunlight seems brighter than it usually is, reflecting off the buildings and pavement with extra intensity. Keith’s eyes hurts and he finds himself squinting, a headache beginning to grow.

 _Coffee._ There’s another vending machine on the other side of campus, where the rehearsal hall is. It has his favourite, like the one outside his apartment block. The universe, however, appears to hate him, and when Keith gets there it’s in need of restocking. He’s so tired he almost believes the red light on the machine to be an error, since there’s a guy walking away from it with the very brand of coffee he’d been going to get…

Keith stops abruptly. It’s Shiro.

_…he just took the last one, didn’t he?_

Unfortunately, Shiro sees him and catches him staring at the yet to be opened can in his hand. The guy chuckles and lifts the coffee up in the air.

“Uh, you were just about to get one, weren’t you?”

Keith stares at it forlornly a moment, then pulls himself together and shrugs.

“Did you want it?” Shiro asks. “I can get another. Another drink, that is.”

“Nah, it’s okay.” Keith shakes his head and immediately regrets it. Sleep deprivation and hunger aren’t doing him any favours.

“You sure? You look like you need it.”

 _What’s that supposed to mean?_ “No, it’s fine.”

He’s too drained for this. Too stressed. It takes too much energy trying to decipher just how true Shiro’s kindness is and how far it goes. Keith’s got to conserve his energy for facing all the people he’ll be rehearsing with – including Shiro.

Time starts to blur. He’s on autopilot resuming his walk around campus, pace slowing with every lap. On his fifth lap he turns around and walks straight to the rehearsal hall.

He’s a minute late, but people are still setting up and tuning.  _One big plus about playing piano._ The hall is set up in the arrangement of positions in which they’ll be playing. Keith takes his seat in centre stage, the grand piano right in front of the conductor. It’s his small oasis.

The concertmaster happens to be Lance, someone who Keith’s always found to be a pain in the neck. Thankfully they won’t be playing together, as Keith’s only playing for Shiro’s compositions. Shiro’s friend Matt who had stood outside his apartment door last night is hugging a double bass and chatting away to girl with a viola who looks to be his sister. Shiro’s standing there with them, arms crossed casually over his chest as he laughs away.

Keith’s distracted by his ears ringing. At first he thinks it’s the woodwinds warming up, but then he realises it’s himself and in a bit of a panic closes his eyes and focuses on taking deep, steady breaths. There’s no way he’s passing out. It’s just four more hours, then he can go home and nap the entire weekend. While that’s not entirely true, what with the couple of assignments he’s got due next week and the practising he’s got to do, but…

He gets up and makes a beeline for the water fountain outside. After splashing his face and drinking a good deal of water, he feels a bit better but it’s not a significant difference.

_Just a little longer. C’mon, you can do this._

When he returns to his seat, it takes all his self-control not to close the lid over the piano keys and rest his head on it. Shiro gets the rehearsal underway by introducing himself and saying a whole bunch of other stuff that Keith unintentionally ends up zoning out during. They go round the room then, introducing each other and all Keith can think about is how emo his expression probably is right now. Not that he cares, though. He’s just too tired to deal with the wary, somewhat concerned looks everyone gives him when he says his name like nobody knows it already.

Shiro says they’ll do a quick run through of each piece, seeing as everyone is here. They never get beyond the first half, and Keith sits and waits silently for questions techniques and dynamics to be resolved. Keith tells himself to be patient, to just stay awake until this over, but he finds both his patience and alertness wearing thin.

They take a couple of breaks, the first which Keith uses to revisit the water fountain. By the second, everyone’s tired and losing focus because it’s the end of the week and Keith still hasn’t played a single note. He’s too dizzy to get up, so he just sits and stares at the keys, not really thinking anything at all. Everyone senses his frustration and exhaustion and leaves him alone.

Four p.m. comes. They could, by all means, stay around and practise longer, but Shiro makes the call for all of them and they wrap up the first rehearsal there. Keith heaves a sigh.

_I did nothing._

He’s not sure how well he can walk, so he waits until everyone has their instruments packed up and have finished lingering around to talk before he shakily gets to his feet. He closes the lid and sets about covering up the piano, movements weak. Shiro sees him not getting very far in a hurry and helps him pull the cover over the piano from the other side without a word.

“Thanks,” Keith murmurs.

Shiro’s watching him, concerned. Keith ignores him. He’s had enough of this guy’s kindness for one day. He just wants to get home. But as he fetches his bag and slings it over his shoulder, the blood drains from his face. As surely as Keith feels it, Shiro sees it.

Before he can make it out the door, Shiro intercepts him.

“Keith,” he says hesitantly. “Are you okay?”

 _Not really,_ Keith thinks, but he doesn’t say it. “Yeah. Just tired.”

“I’m sorry about today. I really thought we’d have gotten through it all, or at least through one piano concerto.”

Shiro’s blocking his exit. Keith tries to keep his breathing normal, but his blood’s already filling with adrenaline, vision going out of focus and dimming. The ringing is back in his ears.

_Oh no._

“Keith? You don’t look so good.”

He swallows hard. “I’m fi…”

Keith collapses into Shiro and faints mid-sentence.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd been going back and forth between writing this fic as soft sheith or platonic, as there were some parts of the fic I felt could posssibly veer into the slightly romantic zone. I've decided to go with the platonic version (this one)!!! What scenes there were that could've gone romantic are so minor that not writing them in doesn't affect the plot in any way, so here we are. Sorry for the confusion!!! ><
> 
> Thank you guys for your comments and kudos <3 <3 I hope you enjoy! :D

Shiro’s heart nearly leaps out of his chest. He reacts quickly, grabbing onto Keith’s arms with both hands before he hits the ground. Keith’s head lolls back as he lowers him down to the floor.

_Man…_

His face is pale. He looks like he’s barely slept at all and now Shiro’s regretting not forcing him to take that last coffee he bought from the vending machine. Keith needed it far more than he did. He then proceeded to make him sit there for the entire duration of the rehearsal while the orchestra got some practise in and he didn’t.

It’s basically his fault Keith’s out. If Shiro had only thought to go over to him during the break, tell him that they may not actually get to the piano concerto like he’d hoped they would…

Shiro taps him on the side of the face. “Keith?”

A muscle in Keith’s cheek twitches. He groans but doesn’t wake.

“Hey, Keith. Come on….”

Shiro has no idea what to do. He’s not just fainted, he’s asleep. Shiro grimaces and looks around as though it’ll help him think of something. Everyone’s already gone home. The health centre will be closed by now and the only other option Shiro can think of asking Matt for some help. But Matt’s got a double bass to load into his car as well as his sister with her viola.

Which leaves Shiro.

He sighs. His car’s empty. It’s just him. As he found out last night, both he and Keith live in the same apartment building. Since Shiro’s conducting and Keith’s playing piano, neither of them have instruments to cart out the door, either.

_Guess I’ll… take him back with me?_

After a couple more minutes of trying unsuccessfully to wake Keith, Shiro takes a deep breath and pulls him into his arms. Iverson will be here sometime soon to lock up the hall, no doubt, so he’d better be quick. Somehow he doesn’t think Keith would appreciate being seen by too many people like this, especially his piano teacher. With his bag already in the car, Shiro slips an arm beneath Keith’s knees and staggers to his feet.

_Oof._ He’s not the lightest. Shiro sidles out the door, Keith’s bag of books hitting his knee and catching on the doorway. Keith’s arm knocks against the door on their way. Shiro winces, trying his best to mind Keith’s hands and failing.

When he gets outside, he pauses to hoist him up further into his arms, Keith’s head now resting against his shoulder instead of lolling over his arm. It’s a strain. Shiro’s chest hurts with the effort to get enough air in. Thankfully he parked his car in the parking lot nearest to here, so it’s only about a two minute walk – five with Keith in his arms – across campus. It’s also on one of the far sides of the complex, meaning they don’t run into many people. Just a person.

Iverson.

He raises his eyebrow, frowning deeply. “Shirogane. What’s wrong with him?”

“Fainting spell,” Shiro says curtly. He doesn’t have enough breath for any long winded explanations. “We live next door to each other so I’ll take him home.”

Iverson nods. He stares at Keith’s face, concerned. With a sigh, he continues on his way to the rehearsal hall to lock up.

Shiro doesn’t stop walking or slow down his pace to look back over his shoulder, but he wonders what Iverson’s reaction was about. Obviously he knows more about Keith than Shiro does, which has Shiro wondering if this is a regular occurrence; Iverson didn’t seem all that surprised to see Keith like this. If it’s not something that happens often, it’s most certainly something that’s been a cause of concern for Iverson for quite some time. Shiro makes a mental note to watch out for Keith more during rehearsals.

Unlocking the car is a challenge. He has to crouch and sit Keith down in order to fish his keys out of his jacket pocket. A couple of students lingering in the car park, talking, watch them with curious eyes. Lance and Hunk, if Shiro remembers their names correctly like he should. As soon as Shiro reaches up and opens the passenger door, Keith’s shielded from their view a few seconds until Shiro picks him up again. He slips Keith’s bag off his back, awkwardly manoeuvring his arms to get it free and sets it down on the floor of the passenger side before getting Keith settled in the seat.

_I’ll have to have a word with those guys,_ Shiro thinks as he draws the seat belt. _Keith’s never going to hear the end of it otherwise._ Lance and Hunk are already parting ways though, Lance headed for his car and Hunk for the bus stop. Shiro has their contact details though, so he can flick them a text once he’s home. _Later it is, then._

It’s a quiet drive up to the apartments. In Shiro’s home city, driving at this hour would mean being stuck in gridlocked traffic getting nowhere. Thankfully there’s none of that here and what rush hour there is is still forty minutes away. He’s not sure he could deal with the uncomfortable silence, radio playing at low volume or not.

Shiro always thought Keith Kogane as someone unreachable. Someone who didn’t want to be reached. He looked a little lonely from what Shiro saw, but knowing how to approach him is another story. Looking at him now and thinking of him yesterday though…it seems that one of the reasons Keith stays away from people is because there are things about him, things in his life, that he’d rather people didn’t know about.

Exaggerated startle reflex. Anxiousness. Avoiding people. Not getting enough sleep. Something’s definitely affecting Keith.

He pulls into the apartment carpark. It’s a lot easier to find in daylight, especially what with only one headlight working. He needs to get that fixed. Shiro turns off the car and sighs. So much to think about. He pinches the bridge of his nose and forces the stress to the back of his mind. He can stress about things after he’s gotten Keith back to his apartment.

_Oh._ He doesn’t know Keith’s passcode and he doesn’t know where his keycard is. The passcode he could probably guess, but there’s no way he’s comfortable rummaging through Keith’s bag to find the keycard. Especially if he keeps it on himself in a pocket. No. He’s not doing that.

_My apartment it is._

It’s probably better that way. He slips his keycard out and keeps it in his hand. Keith’s not well. Shiro would rather take him into his own apartment if it means being able to keep an eye on him. It feels wrong doing so without asking. He’s also worried about setting off Keith’s anxiety when he wakes to find himself in a stranger’s house.

But if the alternative is entering Keith’s place without permission…

Shiro takes a deep breath and gets out of the car. Keith’s still asleep. Shiro’s gut twists as he lifts him out of the passenger side. He looks absolutely exhausted. Shattered. They’re midway through their third year studies and have had to make extra time amongst assessments for practising for the student orchestra, but there’s no way Keith should be this tired.

It’s concerning. Even Iverson was concerned, and that’s something to be said from a teacher who usually doesn’t care whether or not his students are tired. This is something else.

Stairs interrupt his thoughts. Shiro stairs at them with a raised eyebrow. His car locks automatically behind him while he summons the energy he needs.

“Alright,” he says aloud. “Just a flight or two of stairs.”

It’s a mission. Keith’s not light at all and Shiro has to be careful not to drop him. His arms are weak by the time he gets to the top of the stairs, but he doesn’t know if he can lift Keith back up into his arms again if he puts him down for a little break now. Shiro forces his legs to keep moving.

Shiro swipes his card, enters his passcode, opens the door with his knee and then leans back against it to open it the rest of the way.

His apartment’s a mess of half unpacked things. Sheets of music and scribbled notes are sprawled all over the coffee table and the bench. The toaster’s still out, the coffee maker empty. The heavier jacket he decided he didn’t need today is thrown over the couch. Shiro carries Keith over to the couch and nudges it off as he lies him down.

Keith doesn’t stir. His face has regained a bit of colour, but it worries Shiro he hasn’t woken yet. He takes a cushion from the end of the couch and props Keith’s head up on it, then fetching a blanket from one of the boxes stacked up against the lounge wall and laying it out over him.

He perches on the edge of the couch with a sigh. _And now we wait,_ Shiro thinks.

Over the next couple of hours, he fills in time with various little things: ducking out of the apartment to get their bags from the car, making a quick dinner of pasta and setting some aside for Keith when he wakes up, tidying up all his sheet music and study notes from his morning study session…

By the time eight o’clock rolls around, he’s exhausted. Keith’s still out like a light. Shiro’s checked on him numerous times to make sure he’s not ill and he doesn’t seem to be, but he’s still worried and it’s draining his own energy from him. He tries to distract himself with making notes ready for the next rehearsal but finds he doesn’t have the mental energy to do so and plonks his head down on the table instead.

With a sigh, Shiro closes his eyes and falls into a nap he didn’t intend on taking.

 

Keith takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. _Urgh, I’m so tired._ It takes him a good few minutes to wake up enough to think, but it’s not until he opens his eyes and finds himself staring at a strange ceiling that he realises something’s wrong.

He jolts upright. He’s been lying on someone’s couch. The end of the blanket that’s been covering him falls from his chest to his lap. Keith’s eyes dart around the room as he tries to take in everything at once, tries to figure out where he is - then they land on Shiro, on his knees asleep at the coffee table, and something in him relaxes just a little bit.

It doesn’t solve the confusion as to how on earth he got here though. The last Keith remembers is Shiro talking to him. He fainted, right? Keith frowns. _How long has it been?_

He finds the glowing numbers of the digital clock on the microwave and stares at it, wide-eyed.

Nine thirty p.m. He’s been asleep for over five hours.

_How on earth…?_

Had he really been that tired? Shiro probably _carried_ him from the rehearsal hall and he didn’t even react. Anything could’ve happened to him while he was out – he could’ve been beaten, robbed.... and while Shiro might seem like the type to never even think about doing anything but Keith’s only just met the guy. Bad things have happened to him before. They can happen again.

Keith yawns. He blinks. His head isn’t spinning like it was before, at least, but it’s fuzzy all the same. Maybe some water will help. He’s hungry, too, so food as well…

_Oh yeah._ He’s got no food. Keith groans, runs a hand through his hair in frustration. All the shops will be closed by now. Maybe he could order some pizza or something when he gets back home, else he could always just grimace and bear it until morning. Considering what happened this afternoon though, that maybe isn’t such a good idea after all.

When he finally convinces his legs to move, to get up off the couch, he finds the food problem is already solved. Shiro’s left a bowl of pasta out for him on the kitchen bench. There’s a bright yellow post-it note with his name written on it in bold letters. Underneath it, in smaller lettering, is a message confirming Shiro set it aside for him to eat.

Keith hesitates. He throws a glance over at Shiro, already feeling like he’s intruding. He needs to eat, he does, and Shiro’s been so generous as to even make enough food for him as well. He’d be a little dubious if Shiro hadn’t taken care of him these last few hours, but as it is Shiro’s been nothing but kind towards him.

He feels bad. It’s Shiro’s food. He’ll have to figure out a way to repay him later, what after everything he’s done for Keith’s sake today. Maybe he could buy Shiro a coffee or something. For now though, it’d probably just be enough to accept what Shiro’s given him. Eating the dinner left for him is all he has to offer right now, but somehow Keith feels that for a person like Shiro that’s enough.

The pasta is somewhat bland but his stomach rejoices. Keith’s halfway through when he spies a pen on the other side of the bench; he takes it and scribbles ‘thanks’ on the blank side of the note paper with his name on it.

Ten o’clock comes. Keith washes the bowl and fork and lingers for another five minutes before deciding to just leave. If he waits for Shiro to wake up to say thank you to, he could be standing here all night. With an awkward shuffle towards the door, Keith grabs his bag off the floor and slips out.

It’s like walking out of the movie theatre, coming out after the movie finishes only to find it’s dark out. Keith shakes his head at himself, baffled. He still can’t believe he was out that long. Sure, he hasn’t been sleeping much, but he’s been handling it. Or so he thought. He might be handling it mentally, kind of, but physically…

_At least it’s the weekend tomorrow_ , he thinks as pulls his keycard out of the pocket of his pants. _Don’t have to go anywhere tomorrow. Can stay home and practise._

Then he remembers his pantry’s empty and grumbles under his breath. Going to the supermarket means he’ll have to catch the bus into town. It’s not the middle of the city, but town means people. People means more stress than Keith can deal with at the moment.

He enters his passcode and swings the door open with an angry push. _Never mind that, then._

Home. Keith flicks on the light and sighs. He rubs his eyes. Shower can wait till morning. He uses the bathroom, brushes his teeth, changes and flops down on his bed with a groan.

If he didn’t have anxiety intruding his thoughts at almost every second, life would be a whole lot easier. As it is, he already knows he’s not going to be able to sleep for a while, disregarding his five hour faint-nap-sleep he just woke up from. He’s exhausted and all he wants to do is sleep, but he knows what awaits him if he lets himself do so.

Their faces. Jealous. Frustrated. Annoyed. He feels their hands on him, cruel and some fisted. His body aches with the memory. Without realising it, his heart rate’s picked up and he’s breathing fast, and that’s all he needs for this simple lying here to feel like a simulation of that night he ran like his life depended on it. It probably did.

It takes Keith a full fifteen minutes before he realises what he’s doing: remembering. He inhales sharply, sits up abruptly. He’s sweating. His hands are tingling, feeling weak. There’s so much adrenaline running through him and yet his body doesn’t know what to do with it.

He scrambles for the shower almost feverishly. His shirt’s soaked on the back and under the armpits. He tears it off and throws it down onto the bathroom floor.

The water on the scolding side. Keith’s head is too overwhelmed with voices and panic and shortness of breath to tell his hand to reach up and turn it down.

_“That scholarship was mine, Keith.”_

_“Hold him.”_

Visions flash before his eyes. The hot water is beginning to ease the tension out of the back of his neck and shoulders, but –

_Kick. Someone slam’s his head into the ground. Punch._

_Someone trips. Keith wrestles himself free, gets up and runs._

Keith fights for control of his thoughts.

_“Hey! You come back here!”_

_“Kogane!”_

Breathing. The shower is soothing. He’s alone.

The flashbacks recede.

It’s been three years since he won that competition. The guy who got second place, the one who lost the scholarship to him – Keith hasn’t seen him since but he can’t help but worry. What if he runs into him while out in public? What if he’s still bent on taking out his frustration on Keith for ‘stealing his dream’? What if he’s there in the crowd when the student orchestra performs, watching Keith play a concerto that he so badly wanted to be in?

Keith clenches his teeth. _Stop it._

He won this scholarship fairly. There was nothing he did to invoke that guy’s scorning him besides being there. They both fought hard and Keith’s not going to give into the fear Lotor tried to implant in him. Those threats are now meaningless for all he knows. Lotor's probably forgotten about them already.

If only he could convince the anxious part of his mind that.

 

 


End file.
